


Never Will I Ever

by zvi



Category: Psych, White Collar
Genre: Crossover, Gen, Meme, casefic, commentfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2010-04-20
Updated: 2010-04-20
Packaged: 2017-10-09 01:43:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/81619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zvi/pseuds/zvi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Never Will I Ever Meme: Name a fic you think I will never, ever, ever write. In return, I will attempt to write a snippet of that fic.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Never Will I Ever

**Author's Note:**

  * For [odditycollector](https://archiveofourown.org/users/odditycollector/gifts).



> Never Will I Ever Meme: Name a fic you think I will never, ever, ever write. In return, I will attempt to write a snippet of that fic.

"If you think of anything else, Mr. Muñoz, please don't hesitate to call." Peter actually thought the chances of getting something useful from this witness were better than fifty per cent. He'd twigged to the con almost in time to stop the "museum appraisers" from making off with his prayer rugs, and he'd provided excellent physical descriptions of the thieves. Neal had looked faintly impressed when Muñoz outlined his theory of the crime. (Although, come to think of it, Neal might easily have been impressed by the crime itself.)

"Actually, Agent Burke," said Muñoz. "I wanted to let you know that I'm flying in some," delicate cough, "consultants from California."

_Shit_, thought Peter.

"Mr. Muñoz," said Neal, with the bright, wide smile that meant you had insulted his professional pride. "I assure you, I am the foremost authority on art theft currently working with the FBI. You should save your money and send these consultants to their museum or inst—"

"They're not art consultants," said Muñoz, flatly.

Peter carefully kept his eyeroll on the inside of his face. "Mr. Muñoz, you're aware that private detectives licensed out of state are not permi—"

Muñoz shook his head. "They're not exactly private detectives." Muñoz rolled _his_ eyes. "You have to understand, this is not my idea. My cousin, he owns half the collection, and he insisted on hiring these, uh—."

A young white guy, dressed in flannel, a puffy jacket completely inappropriate for April, and what looked like boat shoes burst into the room. "We're the guys from Psych!" His hand was outstretched as he headed towards their little huddle.

Close behind him came a young black man, in sport coat, slacks, and a nice purple dress shirt. He looked perturbed, and sighed deeply as he also held out his hand. "My apologies for our delayed arrival, Mr. Muñoz. My associate here insisted that he could _intuit_ the best method of using the New York City subway without consulting a map."

Peter and Neal looked at each other. Peter could feel his eyebrows going higher than they'd ever gone before, and Neal had lost his cool so much as to give a single, delicate shudder.


End file.
